


You keep me safe, I'll keep you wild

by CalmBeforeAStorm



Series: Like Stars [1]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Catarina pov, Friendship, Gen, Young Magnus, young Catarina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7576453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalmBeforeAStorm/pseuds/CalmBeforeAStorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Centuries ago, tied to a stake in a town square in Spain, Catarina met a friend she would keep for life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You keep me safe, I'll keep you wild

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!  
> I am (hopefully) beginning a series with this fic, based on the friendship between Magnus Bane and Catarina Loss, which is a relationship I love in the books (and hope the tv show goes in to at some point). I headcanon Catarina as Italian, purely because I googled the name and it seems to have an Italian origin. In this fic, Catarina has not yet chosen her warlock last name, so I chose a random Italian surname which seemed common enough.  
> It's pretty short, but hopefully still enjoyable :)  
> Anyway, on with the fic!

**1651**

The flames were licking higher and higher.

Catarina coughed, and tried to focus on the church tower in the distance. She resolutely avoided catching the eye of any the townsfolk below, who were watching her with an air of slight impatience. Waiting for her to start screaming, she supposed.

It was a beautiful day in northern Spain. Sizzling hot, but with a crystal blue sky overhead. A pleasing scent of dust and warm bread had been in the air – before they’d lit the pyre, at least. Now the invasive smell of burning wood obscured all other senses.

She wondered how long she would burn for.

Catarina swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat and tears gather in the corners of her eyes. Was there any point, hiding her fear? It wasn’t like it would move any of them to pity. When they’d pulled her out of her cell in the town hall an hour ago and into the sun-filled square, she’d seen hardly any sympathetic faces in the crowd. Just hatred, and haughtiness, and fear – they thought she was the devil’s own, after all. A witch. Only one person had looked at her with anything resembling compassion; a young, brown-skinned man who watched her climb the steps to her death with sad eyes.

She missed her mother. She missed her homeland. In this strange country, so similar and yet so different to her own, she’d lasted barely a month before they’d caught her.

_Stupid, stupid._

She could hear, but not fully understand, the idle chatter of the people below her. She was doomed to die here beneath the blazing sun, miles away from home and unable to understand the last words she would ever hear.

She took a deep breath, but the smoke caught in her throat and she coughed again.

Surely there was much too much smoke? The wood hadn’t been burning long. Maybe it was deliberate, an act of mercy – letting her die of smoke inhalation long before the fire could get her. Or maybe the wood had just been wet.

Her view of the church tower was slowly being obscured by the curling grey smoke, she noted. The beautiful tower, which she’d decided was going to be the last thing on this earth she ever saw, was being cruelly hidden from her eyes.

_What a way to die._

Catarina closed her eyes briefly, trying to tune out the sound of crackling wood and the hum of conversation around her.

When she opened them, she would have jumped, had she not been tied tightly to the stake.

The young man from before was there, standing with her on the pyre. The smoke had risen behind him to the height of a wall, and she somehow had enough mental faculty left to realise what that meant – she could no longer see the townsfolk, and they could no longer see her. She and this young man were alone, the smoke acting as a barrier between them and the outside world.

He smiled gently at her, sad eyes in a kind face, and took a step towards her.

He spoke. Just one word, but enough to blur Catarina’s vision with disbelieving, grateful tears.

_‘Italiana?’_

She nodded eagerly, and the man continued speaking, the words of her native language flowing fluently from his mouth.

‘Come with me. I can get you out of here’

She froze, shocked, as he snapped his fingers. She felt the thick rope that bound her arms to the stake fall away, as if they’d been cut.

The man grinned at her and waved a hand. Blue sparks arched over his fingers.

‘I’m like you’

She gaped, standing with her sore arms dangling uselessly at her sides. For a moment, she forgot everything else in the world – all the angry, fearful people below her, the smoke making her eyes sting, the flames climbing higher around them. For a moment, all she felt was relief, and wonder.

All her life, she’d thought she was the only one who could do what she could do. She’d thought she was alone.

The man waved his fingers again, and Catarina knew instinctively that the two of them were now invisible to everyone else. He took her hand gently, and tugged a little.

‘Let’s go. We have to hurry’

Catarina stepped away from the stake and passed with the stranger through the smoke and into the sunlight.

________________________________________________________________

They ran, hands still held tightly, into one of the many winding alleys surrounding the town square. Catarina had spared one last glance at the crowd as they’d stepped carefully down from the pyre and through the gathered people. They were still staring up at the flames, the stake now completely obscured by smoke and fire. She had no doubt that they believed her to be dead already, the fire burning away her flesh. Their faces were disinterested; bored, even. Probably disappointed that their “witch” hadn’t given them much of a show.

She turned away from their casual cruelty, and concentrated on the fresh air in her lungs, the dusty stones of the buildings they passed, and the comforting feel of another human being’s hand in her own.

When they eventually stopped, under the shade of a tree on the outskirts of the town, they were both laughing. The sky was deep blue, and a flock of birds was flying noiselessly, high over their heads. She could hardly believe that less than ten minutes ago, she had been waiting for death.

The man let go of her hand and turned his grinning eyes on her. With a start, she saw that they were no longer the brown eyes she had noticed before, but were green-gold, with slit, vertical pupils like a cat’s.

He bowed slightly from the waist, and introduced himself.

‘My name is Magnus Bane. May I enquire as to your own?’

She laughed, breathlessly, and offered him her hand to kiss.

‘Catarina Moretti. I- thank you, _so much._ I’m not sure how I’ll ever be able to repay you for saving my life’

The man – Magnus – waved his hand dismissively.

‘You don’t need to repay me, _Signora_ Moretti. We warlocks must look out for each other, after all’

Catarina blinked.

‘Warlocks?’

Magnus stared at her a moment in confusion, then laughed, running a hand through his inky black hair. He was well-dressed, she noticed. She wondered idly what he did for a living.

‘Yes, warlocks. You’re a warlock. I’m a warlock. You can do things like this, can’t you?’

He snapped his fingers, and two apples dropped from thin air onto the ground between them.  Grinning, he picked them both up, and after polishing it on the edge of his sleeve, handed one over to her.

She smiled and took it gratefully. It felt cool in her hand, and smelled wonderfully sweet.

‘Well, I’m not sure about things like that, but I can help people get better. Heal wounds, draw out infections, things like that. I mended the broken leg of a woman back there in the town a month ago. That’s why they took me to the cells. They thought I was a witch but I- I just hated to see her in pain’

Catarina was surprised at herself. Why was she telling this to a man she barely knew?

Magnus was nodding though, so she continued.

‘When my mother died, I left home. I left Italy. This was the first town in Spain I stopped in for any length of time. I thought I could stay here and help people. And learn the language’

‘You don’t speak Spanish?’ Magnus laughed, but not unkindly, and Catarina had to laugh as well. _What had she been thinking, really?_

‘No. You can, though?’

‘Yes. I’ve lived in this country a long time. I’m an assistant to the High Warlock of Madrid’

 _You’re not from here though,_ Catarina mused. He didn’t look like anyone she had ever met before. Maybe he was from one of the far-off lands the traders took their spices from.

‘There are High Warlocks?’

Magnus laughed again, and Catarina decided that she rather liked her rescuer. There was something infectious about his personality, and it had been so long since she’d had such an easy conversation with someone.

‘But, of course! There are so many of us; someone needs to tell us all what to do’

‘I didn’t know that. Before I met you, I thought I was the only one’

Magnus smile turned kind again. He looked young, but Catarina knew from her own experience that appearances could be deceiving. She herself was fifty, but looked in her mid-twenties.

‘Nearly all of us start out thinking that. But you’re not alone, Catarina. You never have been’

Catarina was struck with a sudden need to learn about this community she had never known existed, yet apparently belonged to. She wanted to belong somewhere again.

‘Can I go back to Madrid with you? I don’t know where else to go. I can work, I promise. I’m good at healing’

The afternoon sunlight sparkled in Magnus’ eyes, and he tossed his apple in his hand.

‘Of course you can. I can hardly leave a young maiden alone in a strange land now, can I?’

She rolled her eyes, and was unsurprised when Magnus merely laughed good-naturedly in response.

Catarina felt safe with him, she realised, in a way she hadn’t really felt with anyone since her dear mother had died, three years previously. She felt like she didn’t need to hide anything about herself – her abilities, her real appearance.

He had had the courage to show her his true eyes. She supposed she should return the favour.  Taking a deep breath, she dropped the spell masking her blue skin and silvery-white hair, and waited expectantly for his reaction. No one but her mother had ever seen her real skin before.

Magnus smiled, delighted, and Catarina found herself automatically smiling back.

‘You’re beautiful!’

She knew he meant it.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
